


My Brother's Numbers

by origamigf



Series: AtsuKita Week 2020 [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Crying, Gen, Guilt, Phone Calls & Telephones, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25607575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/origamigf/pseuds/origamigf
Summary: He was always a private person, yet he finds a stranger continiously calling and leaving strange voicemails, ones that leave him worried and hurting.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke & Miya Atsumu, Kita Shinsuke & Ojiro Aran, Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Osamu & Suna Rintarou
Series: AtsuKita Week 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839247
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42
Collections: Atsukita Week





	My Brother's Numbers

**Author's Note:**

> thanks @danotiel for betaing as usual!

He walked over to the house phone of his apartment. It had been installed by his older brother the other day. He never really did understand any of that stuff. He would always find himself breaking whatever outlet it needed to be connected to. He managed to always find a way to tangle those wires, leading him to trip and stumble everywhere as he tried to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do about this mess and his inability to set up anything.

He’s a private person. He doesn’t like sharing his information outside of his own circle. He had given his home number to only his number (which was only his brother and grandmother at this point) and to his boss. No one else was supposed to have it. If they did, it had to be work or family related, right? It would be on file for those cases when they couldn’t reach him through normal means when something came up. So why? Why is there a stranger calling his phone constantly? How did he have his number? Was this some employee at the phone company messing with him? 

He stares at the voicemail count. It’s just one for now, but he knows it’ll tick hire if he doesn’t go ahead and play it. He’ll delete it right after. He’s always been pretty weak when it comes to confrontational stuff like this. 

“Hm, oh it went to voicemail again?” It started up right away soon as he pressed the ‘play voicemail’ button. He sure had a knack at getting the timing right. “I guess you aren’t home, I’m surprised you haven’t blocked my number, stranger!” 

‘Why did it have to be my number?’ He sighed, why couldn’t it be anyone else’s? Someone who was a bit more upset and positive. Someone who could pick up the phone instead of letting it ring off the hook every time they saw that ‘unknown caller ID’. He never thought himself to be such a coward before, but how couldn’t he be in this situation? He couldn’t just pick up the phone and talk to him! 

“I’m sorry, really am!” The man on the other side of the line. “I’m not really sure what ‘m thinkin’ if I’m to be honest here.” 

‘Not rationally, that’s for certain,’ He felt guilty when the thought popped in his head. He didn’t want to be a jerk, but these weren’t the actions of a sane person. These were the words and the feelings of someone hurt, someone desperate for someone to listen, to hear his cries. Did he seriously have no one else to go to about all of this? That he had to resort to a stranger’s number, hoping they won’t pick up? 

“I’m really havin’ a shit day,” The man laughed again. It was pathetic, it sounded full of self-pity. “There was this guy, I used to call him constantly! Even when we were in the same room together, how dumb is that?” 

He bit his lip, waiting for the hit. The one that would strike him to the core and leave him unable to face this unknown number. 

“Well, he...he used to be my go to guy, y’know?” His voice faltered, it started to grow higher in pitch. That was never a good sign. His voice was cracking, like he was on the verge of cracking something else. It was like he was a dam and everytime he thought of this mysterious person that was another crack in the carefully cared for dam. “I got this damn thing from my friend, real jerk he is. But...he was always able to come right over and fix it, it was like magic. He had that special touch or somethin’. He can fix anythin’. He’s always got that spare tire in the back for me, now who do I call for that? Suna? Yeah right, he would end up cryin’ just like I am. Wait, no, shit - I - I’m not cryin’ okay so don’t ya even think for a second!” 

He wasn’t convincing at all. His heart was starting to pang with hurt. Damn it, why did he have to emphasize with this idiot kid? He sounded young and so in pain. He could tell he was trying to hold back so hard while trying to break the same dam he built whenever everything in his life flipped upside down. 

‘This isn’t fair,’ He growled, his fists starting to clench at his sides. He wanted to pick up the damn phone and dial back, to scream at him but he couldn’t. Whoever this was had to be grieving and felt like they had no one to reach out to. 

“I forget these digits ain’t my lifeline anymore,” He cried while laughing, like the sad sack he was. If he was to imagine what was happening on the other line, he would have to guess that the person on the other line was shaking with pain as he furiously wiped the tears off his face. He needed to put up a brave face, that’s probably what the kid was thinking. “‘M sorry. I just...I gotta dial ‘em up when life feels like shit. ‘M so sorry, I - I can’t stop myself. Those stupid ring-up calls, the midnight ones, the early mornings - this so annoyin’ huh? I ‘ I didn’t mean to uh...ah, crap ‘m bad at this, huh? Do ya think so? Sakusa-chan tells me I suck at this sort of thing.”

How could he not forgive him? He was a stupid mess, but what else did this kid have? What was his situation? Could he even afford a therapist? God knows the economy is utter shit these days. He would just suffer silently if he took this from him, he had to. It was just a call. One voice mail. All he had to do was listen and delete. No one ever needed to know their connection besides them. He doesn’t know the kid and the kid doesn’t know him.

“‘M gonna go, sorry ‘bout all of this,” The kid laughed again, “Probably gonna call again, sorry.”

Just like that, the voicemail had concluded. He reached over, pressing ‘delete voicemail’ and walked away from him. He felt like a sponge, soaking in all that kid’s pain and grief. 

Who the hell was this kid though? 

  
  
  


It was a Monday morning when he called again. He was making breakfast for him and his roommate. They were just chatting, small talk really. A simple, ‘how are you? How do you like your bacon again?’ ‘Crispy, I’m good! I was invited to the Japan team, so I’m a little nervous.’ 

The phone started ringing, jittering in its place. “Sorry, could you take this over? It might be work, I won’t know how long it’ll be,” 

“Yeah, no worries,” Aran smiled, getting up from his spot at the kitchen counter. He carefully grabbed the skittle and spaluata, trying to avoid the popping of the melted butter. He ducked away and stepped outside of the kitchen area, turning to face the phone perched on the small table. He glanced down on the screen, only to feel himself jolted by the sight of ‘Unknown Caller ID’ on it. He stared at the phone as it rang, his heart hurting. He knew what was about to come. 

“Are you going to answer it?” Aran called back, probably confused as to why it wasn’t being picked up by now. How could he even explain it? ‘Oh yeah there’s this kid who is filled with some kind of grief about some guy and he vents about it when he calls here but I never pick up because I’m too scared to face him’. He knew Aran wasn’t the judgemental type, but this wasn’t the usual situation. He didn’t have any other choice but to pick up. 

He grabbed the handle of the phone, bringing it to place against his ear slowly. What was about to happen? Was he supposed to say something? How do you even greet someone based on this context? Do therapists just say a normal hello before inviting their patients into their office to break down about whatever trauma is plaguing them? He wasn’t a therapist though, he was just a normal officer worker that went to a normal college and has normal friends and family members. 

“Oh ya picked up, huh? Wasn’t expectin’ that,” The kid chuckled. “What’s yer name hotshot?”

He doesn’t want to tell him, so he switches it inside. “What’s yours?”

“Ah, ‘if ya tell me, I’ll tell ya’ sort of thing? It’s Atsumu, stranger.” The newly named kid said, he could hear a light grin in his voice. He could hear meaningless chatter in the background. Where was he? Was he really about to break down in a crowded place? “Now yers.”

“I never agreed to your deal,” He said, biting the inside of his cheek. He was so nervous. What if he messes up? What if he says the wrong thing or breathes the wrong way? Anything could send this kid into something tragic. His heart is beating rapidly inside his chest, reminding him how the sweat is forming on the palms of his hand. He feels like he’s being suffocated by just being on the phone with him. He’s never had phone anxiety before like other people but was this like that? 

“Yer smartass,” Atsumu huffed, snorting. “Bet yer wonderin’ why I called.”

‘I’m wondering why you’re doing this in a public space more,’ He thinks carefully, biting down on his lip to keep his mouth shut. He wasn’t the impulsive type but even so, he couldn’t risk it. 

“Y’know, I learned about this number when I was…” Atsumu trails off, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. “...fourteen, I think? Ya! ‘Cause Pa bought the wrong cake for our birthday from the bakery on the 14th street, a coincidence! Right? Is that what it is? I don’t know...Sakusa-chan yelled at me for drinking too much again. Pass my limit or something, I don’t remember what we did last night.” 

It’s eight in the morning. It’s a Monday. He must have drunk so much last night if he was still drunk now. Did he even sleep yet? Was he not hungover? How young as he? Was he a teenager or is he able to drink legally? If he is, he sure isn’t doing it responsibily! 

“We got it for our birthday,” Atsumu said, “I broke my phone and constantly changed numbers. He was the perfect one, never breaking or changing. Sooo boring!”

‘This guy is boring for keeping the same number to make it easier on everyone else?’ He thought, finding this kid’s logic completely stupid. What was with him?

“But I guess that’s the best, huh?” Atsumu laughed, his drunk nature seeping through in the messy tone of his words. “Could always call him when in trouble, didn’t matter what. Sometimes, I called it in good news too… but mostly bad news. Every break-up I’ve had, he's known it. How could he not?” 

‘Who is this guy exactly?’ The moment he thought it, it was like Atsumu had read his mind. He answered it a second later, but he wishes he had never asked. He wishes he didn’t know, he misses the ignorance he had the few seconds prior.

“I mean, he’s my twin so he’s gotta! Stuck with me, joined to the heart, stuff like that yah?” Atsumu answered, “...I know I have other friends I can go to, they’re good and stuff but. I - I just can’t? They can’t help in the way he did...he just  _ got  _ me. Best friend, twin, platonic soulmates, what have you - that’s what we were, well, until he, ya know…” 

‘I know?’ He thought. Atsumu has definitely hinted at it in former calls but never outright said it. Or rather, he’s never outright admitted it. 

“Well, whatever!” Atsumu quickly switched focus. He didn’t want to admit. Of course not, why else would he be calling his dead brother’s phone number to vent and cry about the fact that his brother is gone? His grief can go nowhere but in this circle of pain and tears, never to be broken or stopped. “They’re good ‘nd stuff but like, I need him. I need my baby brother.” 

He wanted to cry. 

“Sorry to bother ya,” Atsumu giggled pitifully. “Bad serves leads to bad drinking habits, meanin’ need him to snap me out of it, but ya ain’t him righto? Ha, Saku-chan would totally hit me for that! Too bad he’s moping and having a ‘normal sleep schedule’, whatever that means.”

‘What do I say?’ He opens his mouth to say something - anything - but he can’t muster anything to say. Nothing is popping in his overworking mind. Why? Why couldn’t he just -

“Well, night! Or mornin’, Stranger-kun!” 

And the line went dead. He sighs, feeling bad about himself for being able to do anything for him. But then again, what place did he have to say anything? He didn’t even know this kid’s last name, let alone enough of him to say what he should or shouldn’t do. He can’t even begin to count on his character when he barely knows the guy and the guy isn’t too interested in him either. Like he called him just now, he was a stranger and that’s probably what he’ll always be. 

He never thought he would end up in this situation. He knew getting a home phone would be a little stressful, but he didn’t think he would end up where he is now! He is not prepared for this sort of thing. Who could have guessed this was bound to happen? 

“Hey, is everything okay? Do you need to go to work?” Aran called from the kitchen area. Crap, right, he had company. He placed the phone back in it’s holder. He twisted on his heel and marched back into the kitchen, enjoying the aroma of a finished breakfast for two. 

“I’m sorry you had to do everything again,” He apologized, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He stared up at the star player who smiled back brightly, his entire body at ease. Aran always knew how to cheer him up. 

“Don't worry about it! It’s nice to be able to cook for someone else again, its been a while.” His best friend laughed, shaking his head as he placed the dirty pan and spaulata in the sink so it could soak and be washed later. He watched his friend sit down back at his seat at the counter, so he followed suit. “Is everything alright with that call? Was it work?” 

“Ah, it was nothing really. Just someone I know.” Kita says, picking up a piece of silverware. 

“Oh, a friend?” 

“No, not really. We just sort of know of each other? It wasn’t a big deal either way. I don’t need to leave or anything. It was just a quick chat.” 

“What did you guys talk about?” 

“Small talk, really.”

  
  


This was his nightmare. He understands this is not his responsibility. He completely knows he’s not responsible for anyone else but himself. You shouldn’t overwork yourself into exhaustion for your friends. It doesn’t really make you a selfish person, but it’s hard to understand that sometimes though. You can’t be there for people if you’re unable to properly be there for yourself. If you’re not there for yourself and you try to be a good, helpful friend when someone reaches out, your body may be too exhausted to be able to hold onto them properly. 

He understands that. He advises that of his friends more often than not. He sees his co-workers get unnecessarily stressed out over those same things. He gets it, and yet he can’t seem to do that when that phone number rings, when the ‘Unknown Caller ID’ pops up on the screen. It’s foolish and naive, he thinks. Just because this kid's only way of venting is through this phone number doesn’t mean it’s helping. You can vent all day, everyday for the rest of your life, but you won’t get better if you’re not properly facing the problem, accessing it, and processing it. That’s how humans work. Their brains need to be able to process their pain and understand it in order to heal and be able to help them stand back up on their feet again. 

“Hmm, hi Stranger-kun! Did ya not pick up on purpose?” The voicemail starts off right away. His voice is happy and chipper, but he knows that’s not the case. Kita does know that some people can have perfect facades to trick everyone, maybe Atsumu is one of them? He’s not sure. “Hina-chan got mad at me again, I’m a real shitty person, eh? Said I was overworkin’ myself, that I’d end up like him, benched and all that. Didn’t like that, so I grabbed him and started yellin’! Boy, did the coach not like that!”

‘Coach? Like on a sports team?’ He questioned, wondering what type of team he could be on. He recalls him saying something about ‘bad serves’, does that mean he’s on some sort of volleyball team? 

“I betcha ya tired of me, I wonder why ya haven’t blocked me yet if ‘m bein’ honest here,” Atsumu laughs pitifully, he does that a lot now. It sounds so sad. It makes his heart pang with sadness. “Aah, ‘Samu would kick my ass if he knew I was doin’ this. He’d call me lame - no -  _ super  _ lame! He’d say ‘m disgracin’ the Miya name or somethin’? He always used big words like ‘em.”

‘Disgracing is a big word?’ He stared at the wall, feeling a headache coming forth. Was this guy just a plain idiot or something else entirely? Was there another level of stupidity for him? But then again, he isn’t exactly a sane person, now is he? 

“I bet Suna would kill me too, he took it pretty hard too…” Atsumu trails off, letting the sentence hang in the air. “Heya, do ya think ‘m good? I don’t, Suna doesn’t either....Ojiro-san says he don’t hate me but the way he looks at me, he has to blame me, righto? I mean, it is my fault. I - It’s my fault Osamu died, Stranger-kun, I’m a bad person, ya, Ojiro-san is stupid, i - it’s all my fault - !” 

His voice cracked, going high. Once again, he could tell Atsumu was crying on the other line. His own heart from the pain. The stuttering sentences filled with guilt were cut off by a small whimper that only worsened into a full-out crying fit. 

He hated this. He hated this distance. He hated the way he felt. He hated the way he wanted to turn back time so he could come home early in order to catch him when he called. He hated how he wanted to be there for him because there was someone suffering in front of him and in need of someone who will listen and be there without judgement. 

He can’t do anything though. He doesn’t even know Atsumu. He doesn’t know anything besides a few clues that he accidentally let slip. 

‘Wait, Ojiro…?’ His eyes widened, staring down at the holder of his home phone. As in Ojiro Aran? His best friend since high school? Now the Captain of the National Japan Volleyball Team? 

If Atsumu is on a sports team and knows Ojiro, then that means...Atsumu is on the national team? His friend isn’t the type to talk about others unless someone asks. He doesn’t want to seem too soft on his team because he’s the Captain and he has to keep them all in check. 

“‘M sorry for everything,” Atsumu cried out. “‘M sorry of killin’ ya, sorry for being’ a horrible brother, sorry for not lettin’ go, ‘m sorry, please forgive me...please...I d - didn’t mean it when I said that, p - please just come back home. I need ya, ‘Samu.” 

He could feel the tears forming in his eyes, finding himself overcome with emotion for the grieving player.

“Crap, shit, w - why am I like this? ‘M sorry!” A loud apology and the voicemail ended. He was gone, just like that. That was all Atsumu left. No, that wasn’t all. Everytime he vented, everytime he tried to cope by reaching out to someone who was no longer there, he left behind hurt in his wake. His pain, his tears, his grief - Kita could feel all of it. He wanted to make it better, to help him, to offer him, advise and be there for him, but he couldn’t.

Not yet.

He needed to do some research and have a talk with his best friend. 


End file.
